Sixteen years ago, Dina Hilliard says she was “a naive, squeaky-clean” 24-year-old graduate of Central Bible College in Missouri. Fleeing a romantic breakup, she decided she wanted an adventure and accepted a job at an elementary school in a neighborhood called the Tenderloin.

She’d never been west of Illinois and pictured San Francisco as palm trees, sunny days and “smiling, happy children.” So driving up to the school in the heart of urban grit was a bit of a jolt. So was the fact that there was a guy shooting up in the doorway.

Her dad, who had driven out with her, sized up the scene immediately.

“OK, look,” he said. “We can just turn around right now and they’ll never know. They’ll just think you never showed up.”

“But I wasn’t scared,” she says now. “I was curious. I had never experienced anything like that, to see the underbelly of a city, and I was just completely fascinated.”

Hilliard lived in the Tenderloin, taught school for seven years and then became active in neighborhood politics. She’s worked for advocacy groups, and in 2008, at the suggestion of parents who were concerned about their children walking to school past sketchy characters on the gritty streets, helped create “safe passage,” which is a program where volunteers are posted along the route to school to watch over the kids.

There have probably been bigger and more influential programs in the TL, but this speaks to the small things people do to make a city better. Last week, Hilliard said she was moving back to the Midwest.

But her time here has changed her life. She met her husband in the ’Loin, and two years ago they had a baby girl, Macey.

“I am so proud that I get to say she was born in San Francisco,” Hilliard said, “so the city will always be part of her life.”

•In other news: Those who cynically opined that felony charges wouldn’t stick to serial graffiti tagger Andrew “Cryst” Yarbrough can take a bow. Although the district attorney’s office brought felony charges against Yarbrough, citing nearly $50,000 in damages, Judge Brendan Conroy on Monday reduced nine of 10 felony counts to misdemeanors.

•The Board of Supervisors has finally addressed the insult-to-injury towing policy where people who have their cars stolen, and then towed, end up having to pay a hefty storage fee. A measure put forward by Scott Wiener and passed unanimously by the board gives residents a 48-hour grace period before fees start — then they stick it to you.

•Meanwhile, in SoMa, there’s no need to tell Mary Sue Bizzarri that smash-and-grab car burglaries are out of control. “Five years,” she says. “We’ve lost five windows. The insurance company doesn’t even ask for the police report info.”

•The opening of the Tenderloin Museum (much nicer than expected) drew plenty of local swells, including age-defying political legend John Burton, who is 82. Me: “I heard you were having some health problems, is that true?” Burton: (pause) “Probably.” Among the exhibits at the TL Museum is a plaque commemorating the birth of video porn in the United States. It says filmmaker Alex de Renzy screened the first feature-length, X-rated movie in 1969 at a Tenderloin theater. It was called “Pornography in Denmark.” It was a documentary — or so de Renzy insisted.

•The Chronicle once called eightysomething former Supervisor, state Sen. and Judge Quentin Kopp “everybody’s favorite crank.” Hadn’t heard from him in a while, but concerns that he might be mellowing were put to rest by a recent e-mail. “Your blathering is quite annoying,” it began.

•Now it is Saturday morning and after walking the dog, your correspondent headed for Philz for a coffee, looking scruffy in baggy shorts and a tattered T-shirt. While standing in line, naturally, Mayor Ed Lee strolled in. Me: “I can’t believe you saw me dressed like this.” Mayor: “Actually, it is how I pictured you.” Lee is on his way to the Vatican to discuss climate change with Pope Francis. I suggested it might be an opportunity to discuss our divisive archbishop, Salvatore Cordileone. Lee only smiled, mysteriously. The guy behind me in the coffee line said it took him a moment to recognize the mayor but he figured it out. “And,” he said, “you’re the sheriff, right?”